


Pros and Cons

by iridescentglow



Category: Figure Skating RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Coming Out, Gen, M/M, OMC - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-01
Updated: 2011-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-15 07:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridescentglow/pseuds/iridescentglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam Rippon asks Brian Orser's advice on the pros and cons of coming out in the skating world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pros and Cons

**Author's Note:**

> It's caught my attention that this story is very easy to find on Google. Just in case it wasn't obvious: **this is fiction written for entertainment purposes**. Not what you're looking for? [Keep going](http://www.google.com). :)

It's not like Brian catches him having sex. It's not the most innocent of situations – Adam wipes at his mouth and then pushes a sweaty lock of hair off his forehead – but it could definitely be worse.

It's not like it's his dad. It's not like it's his _mom_. Without meaning to, Adam imagines a nightmare procession of people who could have caught him not-having-sex. It includes his fifth-grade Math teacher, his Great Aunt Dot and the hot guy at Second Cup who kind of looks like a serial killer. It definitely could be worse.

After rounding the corner, Brian stands for a moment at the room's entrance. He flicks his eyebrows heavenwards and then turns to leave. Adam breathes a sigh of relief, collapsing against Daniel's chest. Daniel's fingers twitch close to the waistband of his pants and, as it turns out, Brian hasn't killed the moment completely, so Adam leans up to kiss him again. Just a little kiss… a little kiss that turns into… well, whatever.

That's the moment Brian chooses to return, of course.

"Hi," Brian says, inserting himself into the situation. "Hello." He leans forward slightly and extends a hand for Daniel to shake. "I'm Brian."

That makes Adam extricate himself from Daniel pretty quickly. He rearranges his hair and then folds his arms across his chest, trying to look unconcerned (rather than horrified) as Daniel shakes Brian's hand and mumbles, "Danny," by way of introduction.

Adam kind of hates that his boyfriend refers to himself as _Danny_. 'Daniel' is much better; it's stately, it's _Biblical_. By contrast, 'Danny' is the name of the guy who washes your car and doesn't bother to scrub the windows. Not that Adam has been able persuade him of this essential truth. But, okay, _focus_. He has bigger problems right now.

Adam stares hard at Brian, curbing his desire to scream, _OH MY GOD, WHY_.

"Danny, if you could excuse us," Brian says pleasantly, "I'd like to talk to Adam for a few minutes."

Daniel mumbles and gesticulates in a way that Brian seems to interpret as "go ahead". Adam doesn't recall actually agreeing to this talk, but nonetheless, he trails after Brian, shooting a backward glance at Daniel, who still seems confused as to how their five-minute makeout session turned into _this_.

It's a lazy weekday afternoon and the Toronto Cricket, Skating and Curling Club is practically deserted. A single, tennis-racquet-wielding woman passes them in the corridor. Brian smiles at her, even though Adam is pretty sure they've never met. Finally, they reach a large room decked out in the same comfortable, retro-throwback splendor as the rest of the Cricket Club, filled with enormous armchairs and ugly table lamps.

Adam has a dim impression that the room is used for conferences sometimes, but today it's empty apart from a group of people in tennis whites. They look up as Brian pushes open the double doors and strides into the room (followed by Adam, who hasn't entirely mastered the art of _striding_ yet). Seeing the group, Brian smiles at them, too, giving a meaningful look. And, just like that, they're… leaving. Brian has cleared the room without even trying. Brian has that effect: he is quietly commanding. Adam admires that particular quality. He can't even get the guy at Second Cup to give him an Americano and not a Latte, even though he enunciates and everything.

Brian takes a seat in one of the armchairs and gestures for Adam to do the same. He doesn't say anything for a long time. Adam gets the impression that he's collecting his thoughts, but the silence becomes too much for him, so he bursts out:

"I'm sorry you had to walk in on that, but we weren't doing anything, really. Just… talking! And stuff. I didn't think anyone was around – and Daniel just stopped by – and it's _really_ not a big deal."

Adam inhales a big breath and then falls silent, squirming slightly in his seat.

"Look," says Brian, catching his eye and holding it, "I'm not trying to _chastise_ you. You're twenty, you should be having fun. There's nothing wrong with that. You work hard, you deserve it. And if you want to have sex, you should have sex."

"We weren't having sex!" says Adam.

It's the _truth_. The button on his pants might have been undone, but definitely not the fly. Daniel just stopped by and they went to get coffee. And it just so happens that the place where you get coffee at the Cricket Club is inside a small room tucked away near the front foyer. And no one usually visits that room, especially not on a sunny day. And he and Daniel just happened to take a few minutes to enjoy the privacy of the empty room.

Okay. _Fine_. A handjob might have been on the agenda, but they really did just go for the coffee.

Brian turns his hands palm-up and says earnestly, "You have my blessing. Have sex. Have lots of sex. It's stress relief."

"Oh, god." Adam covers his face with his hands.

"Maybe we could try this as a new form of sports psychology…?" Brian says, and Adam can hear the smile in his voice. "Land your triple axel clean or I'll make you have this conversation all over again. There's motivation."

Brian reaches over and pats him on the arm. "I'm really not trying to torture you," he continues. "I just want you to be careful."

Reluctantly, Adam removes his hands from his face and looks at Brian.

"Is this about condoms?" he asks hesitantly. "Because we use condoms most of the time."

"It's not about condoms. Although, Jesus Christ, Adam – _most_ of the time? What the hell does that mean?" The change in Brian's tone of voice is instantaneous and a little bit frightening.

Adam makes the same _uhh-oops_ expression as he does when he messes up on the ice, and he's glad to see the agitation on Brian's face recede.

"Use condoms _all_ the time," Brian says, calmer now. "But that's not what I meant by being careful."

Adam looks at him, uncomprehending.

"The foyer's a public place," he prompts.

"We weren't in the foyer."

"You were five, six steps away from the foyer. You have to remember that this is a big place, Adam. It's not just me and Yu-na and a bunch of nine-year-olds who want to learn how to skate. It's tennis instructors and cricketers and people heading to the gym."

Adam doesn't say anything, but Brian's meaning is beginning to sink in.

"Look, if you were just a regular kid, I'd say fuck 'em." Brian leans forward. " _Fuck 'em_. Do what you like."

"But I'm not a regular kid," Adam says.

Brian sits back, wearing a grim smile. "'Fraid not. And pretty soon, people are gonna start caring what you do in your bedroom. They probably already care. It's gonna bug them if you spoil their lily-white view of you."

"Okay," Adam says slowly, "I get it. I need to be careful. At competitions and stuff. But not. Not _here_."

"Here, everywhere," Brian says in a low voice. "I'm sorry."

Adam hasn't been training at the Cricket Club for two years yet, but it has already begun to feel like home. It's comforting, safe. The idea that he should check himself _here_ , of all places, makes his stomach churn.

"The world's changed," Adam says, trying to sound decisive. "Maybe it doesn't matter anymore."

"Maybe," Brian allows. "Maybe none of the judges will care. Maybe they'll still score you exactly the way you deserve. Maybe you'll still be offered endorsement deals. Maybe sponsors will take a chance on you. They won't worry how you'll test with Red Staters. You'll still be invited to all the big ice shows, because absolutely no one in the industry is bigoted."

Adam guesses he must look like someone has just slapped him, because Brian's calm demeanor seems to desert him. He closes his eyes for a moment and uses his thumb to rub at his temple. He looks tired – defeated.

"I'm sorry," he says at last. "But if I don't tell you these things, who will?"

"So I'll just…" Adam doesn't want to say _stay in the closet_ , although those words won't leave his head. He's already told his family and his friends that he's gay. By most people's definition, he's done, he's _out_. "I'll keep quiet," he finishes lamely.

"That's one option."

"One option! Either I'm out or I'm not, and you're telling me I'm screwed if I come out, so." Adam isn't sure when he tipped over from being confused and unsettled to being angry and upset, but it seems to have happened.

"It's not a clear-cut decision," Brian says with a sigh. "You have to realize that. You have to know what you're getting yourself into.

"It seems easy at first," he continues. "You don't _lie_ , exactly, you just think very carefully about what you say. You keep it vague, until someone asks you straight out, 'who's your ideal woman, Adam?' And you say, 'oh boy, what a question'. Hem, haw. 'Britney Spears is really pretty and, gosh, don't I wish she'd take a chance on a bum like me.'"

"Britney Spears _is_ really pretty," Adam says defensively.

Brian smiles, and the two of them are silent for a long moment.

"It wears on you," Brian says at last. "It means you can't trust people easily. And that's hard. That changes you. You might not notice it at first. Maybe not for years. But a part of you gets eaten up inside.

"There are so many sacrifices in this sport. The little ones, like not getting to sleep in on Saturday morning. And there are big ones, too. But the sacrifices mean you get things in return. Unbelievable things. There's no reason you can't get everything this sport has to offer, Adam. You have the talent. But some sacrifices are harder than others."

"What are you telling me to do, Brian?" Adam asks, and he hears the desperation in his own voice, because as far as advice talks go, this one kind of sucks.

"I'm not telling you anything. It's your decision and it's a hard one."

Adam shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "Maybe I'll just… wait and see. Cross that bridge when… well, whatever."

"Doing nothing is a decision. It may not seem like it at first, but it is," Brian says gently. "Don't just sit back and let things happen to you. You're braver than that."

Adam can't find the words to reply.

Finally, Brian stands up. "Well, now that I've ruined your day, maybe I can go find a puppy to kick or something," he says, trying for joviality and failing.

"You haven't ruined my day," Adam says, on automatic. Blankly, he adds, "Thanks for the talk." He climbs out of his chair and heads for the door.

Brian catches him by the arm. "Wait, wait," he says. "Pretend I'm not your coach for a second. Tell me what you're thinking. Tell me to go to hell if you want."

"It's fine," Adam says and twists his shoulders awkwardly into a shrug. "You're just telling the truth. It's not like I didn't know some people were going to hate me just… _because_. It's not your fault. It's just…"

He trails off. Brian's looking at him with sad eyes and Adam can't help but wonder if he ever got back that part of himself that was eaten up by years of half-truths and playing the pronoun game. Anger stirs in his chest and he blurts out:

"It's not fucking fair!"

Brian nods once, looking grimly satisfied. "No," he says and pulls Adam into a hug.

Adam hadn't realized how much tension had collected in his neck and shoulders, until Brian's arms envelop him and he… deflates, anger gone. Brian pats him on the back and pulls away.

"Don't be late for practice tomorrow," Brian says and, all at once, it's like the conversation never happened. Adam feels sure that Brian won't mention it again.

After Brian leaves, Adam walks back to the foyer slowly, finding that his thoughts are dense and difficult to unravel. He finds Daniel loitering near the coffee room, reading the Cricket Club's notice board.

Noticing Adam, Daniel comments, "This list of rules, it says you're not allowed to wear jeans inside the Club. But. The exception is _smart_ jeans. What are smart jeans?"

"Jeans that cost more than fifty bucks?" Adam offers.

Daniel looks down at the jeans he's wearing – the jeans that Adam recently shoved his hands down. "I bought these jeans for, like, ten dollars."

Adam laughs and pulls Daniel toward him.

"Everything okay?" Daniel asks cautiously, and Adam realizes that his face must still betray a little of his inner turmoil.

"Yeah," Adam says, taking Daniel's hand and interlacing their fingers. "Hey, it's a nice day, we should go outside."

"Before my ten-dollar jeans get me thrown out, you mean?"

Adam laughs again, feeling a little more of the tension leave his body. Hand-in-hand, he and Daniel walk toward the Cricket Club's main entrance, heading outside to sunshine and the world's disapproval.

It's still not fucking fair, Adam thinks, but maybe it will be okay in the end.


End file.
